Carefully
by HyacinthClare
Summary: April/Stark. He would fix it if he knew how to uproot himself, how to pull out the weeds that have crawled up in his heart over the years. But he's always been stubborn.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I always say I only do one-shots, but this is going to have a second part. I'm still not happy with the ending but I thought I'd post this part anyway because there needs to be more April/Stark love on the interwebs. (Speaking of which, please to be checking out the fanvids I made while not studying during finals week: .com/user/theanglophile ) _

April, always so punctual and diligent and eager, hasn't answered a single page all night. So she's giving him the silent treatment now. He deserves it; he would fix it if he knew how to uproot himself, how to pull out the weeds that have crawled up in his heart over the years. But he's always been stubborn.

Still, he feels a lurch when he catches a glimpse of her at the other end of the hallway. Sometimes he finds that his eyes have settled on her face, and he feels a little pain, a tugging at his ribs. And now when she looks at him, her eyes so hardened, it's like a fist has clenched around his heart, and he can't do anything about it.

—

Asha doesn't make it through her next surgery. April barely waits for Hunt to call it before she tears her mask from her face.

"Kepner, where are you going?" Hunt asks.

She doesn't say a word; she only struggles to pull off her surgical gown as she moves towards the door.

"Kepner!" Hunt calls, but she is already furiously scrubbing her hands. A second later, she slips out the door. Hunt moves as though he would follow her, a stern frown set in his forehead.

"Let her go," Stark snaps. He barely catches Hunt's surprised glance before he too pulls off his gown and steps out of the OR.

—

He finds her in the on-call room, perched on the edge of the bed, trembling and fragile.

"April."

She hastily swipes a palm across her cheek.

"I'm fine."

"It's okay," he tells her, shutting the door softly. "You don't have to be fine."

She looks up at him and he sees that tears have welled up in her eyes.

"She was so sick, April, you know that. There was nothing else we could have done."

"I know," she murmurs. "It's just—she was _ten, _and I made her porridge—"

Her voice breaks into a sob, and it's such a gut-wrenching little gasp that Stark doesn't care if she thinks he's a grinch or if she doesn't love him. He sits next to her and wraps his arms around her shoulders, simply holding her while she cries. She doesn't pull away. She turns her head into his shoulder and puts a hand on his chest, drawing in a breath as though she's trying to laugh.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

—


	2. Chapter 2

When April wakes up, her head is fogged up. At first, all she's sure of is that she's in the on-call room and her face is streaked with stale tears. A moment later, it comes back to her—the harsh tone of the monitors as Asha flatlined, the way that sound stuck in her chest like a knife, the fact that that child died terrified and alone in a strange country. She still feels that knife in her chest, and it twists as she remembers.

But then she remembers that Stark followed her and held her, showing that gentle side of himself he had kept locked up, safe from her, for so long. Once she had stopped crying, he told her, "You need to rest; you've exhausted yourself."

Before he could leave, she caught his hand.

"Stay with me?"

He paused, startled. Then he murmured, "I'll stay."

April cringes—what kind of a girl will he think she is now? But then she realizes he is still there, lying beside her on the cot. She lies on her side, and she can't see him, but she knows it is him, his slow, even breaths just barely stirring her hair. He has left several inches of space between them, but his hand rests on her shoulder. He didn't leave her. April glances at the clock; they have been here for over an hour.

She doesn't try to sort out or analyze or label the way she reacts to this. She just feels her heart swell up in her chest, and suddenly it's a little harder to breathe, but it's a nice feeling.

Carefully, she slides over, settling against him so they are properly spooned. She feels a hitch in his breathing and a tensing of his muscles, and she blushes, a little worried. But then he slips his arm around her waist. A warmth spreads over her—not the heat of lust, and for once not the sting of embarrassment, but a simple, quiet contentment. This is the same bed in which she nearly lost her virginity to Karev, and now it's the bed in which she is sleeping with Stark, but not taking off her pants. Maybe someday she will, but they're in no hurry. For now she is satisfied with being held by someone not because he wants her, but because he cares about her.

April smiles. She could swear that she feels Stark smile into her hair.


End file.
